


I Had This Friend

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [49]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 4X01 (Partners in Crime), Dubcon (in Context), F/M, Season/Series 03, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lesson in why substituting what you <i>have</i> for what you <i>want</i> is so rarely a good idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Had This Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This particular idea bit me after a thought occurred to me about the use of a particular word in _Partners in Crime_. I had to write this to make it go away. There is some dialogue from _Partners in Crime_ , and mention of events from the finale of Season Three.

_“I had this friend; Martha, she was called. Martha Jones. She was brilliant.”_

The first (and last) time it happens is after he wakes from a dream about _her_. He’s aching with need, and she's there. So convenient. He almost doesn’t realise what he’s doing – and, when he does, it’s too late.

Martha wants him to herself; he’s known this for quite some time now (he's not oblivious; he's been deliberating ignoring it), and although he knows how much he's going to regret what he's about to do he can't for the life of him seem to stop himself. The fact that she’d practically offered herself to him on a plate serves as no kind of consolation; he should be above this sort of thing. But he’s tired, and hurting, and missing _her_ so much it’s intolerable; he’s not felt quite this old in a long, long time. He’s just like humans in this respect, in the way he needs comfort from somewhere, and if this is all he can get, then …

She doesn’t deserve this, but if he’s honest then she doesn’t exactly deserve rejection, either. He’s stuck between the rock and the hard place and doesn’t he just know it.

“Don’t think; just let it happen,” he hears her whisper in his ear, and he whimpers. It’s been so long, so very long; _she_ is so very far away, and he needs … he needs –

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Rose …_

It’s been so long (he remembers how the last time was with _her_ , shortly before he lost her, and the remembering hurts) that it doesn’t last more than a few minutes. And it’s _her_ name on his lips; _her_ name gasped out in a voice full of love, loss, and utter longing. _Her_ face that he sees in front of him. There’s a good chance it’s always going to be _her_ , and Martha doesn’t even know it.

He doesn’t even notice if she gets anything out of it, he’s so ashamed that he couldn’t keep himself in check. But she’d offered, and he was so very lonely. He just wishes that it didn’t feel like he’d betrayed _her_.

It’s a long time before either of them can speak to the other, except when necessary; longer still before they can look each other in the eye. It was a mistake; a horrible, ghastly mistake, and neither of them are inclined to repeat it.

Even if he’d wanted a repeat performance (he doesn't; he didn't really want it in the first place, not with Martha, and he’s still not entirely sure how he could have let this happen), _she_ still fills his hearts and mind to an extent that no-one else could. He’d only ever be almost there with anyone else, and to inflict that sort of thing on someone would not be fair on anyone. And on Martha, after what he’s just put her through, probably least of all.

He swears he’ll make it up to her, that he’ll find a way to sort this sorry mess they’ve found themselves in, and he means it. It’s not his fault that the Master shows up shortly afterwards and turns every life on Earth into a living nightmare.

 _It’s not his fault._ But he’ll blame himself anyway, as he always does. It’s hardwired into his soul by this stage, after all; blaming himself for everything has become part of his psyche, part of who he is – it's the way his inferiority complex manages to assert itself most often. And when Martha walks away – as everyone always does, in the end, in one way or another – who else is left, but himself, to blame?

_“She was brilliant. And I destroyed half her life.”_


End file.
